


Host

by 69_rumors



Category: The Thundermans
Genre: Action, F/M, Gen, Other, Psychological Horror, Rivalry, Romance, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/69_rumors/pseuds/69_rumors
Summary: The siblings, despite becoming well known heroes, are unable to work together. Pop Pop suggests a training trip to end the feud.
Relationships: Max Thunderman & Phoebe Thunderman, Max Thunderman/Phoebe Thunderman
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Phoebe stared out of the window. The silent ride foreshadowed the deadening trip she did not want to embark on.

"Turn that frown upside down honey. This is for your benefit. It's going to be fun. I promise."

Phoebe faked a smile.

"I know Nana. I'm just…thinking of how much I'm going to miss the family. I've never been this far away from them."

Nana touched her hand.

"I understand."

In the front of the car, Pop Pop threw his head back in laughter. Phoebe could not fight away the tinny feelings of envy.

There was not much too see out of the window, except tall green trees and yellow grass. An hour later, the car finally stopped at a gate.

Her grandfather stepped out. She was confused when her brother alternated seats. The whites of his knuckles were visible around the skin of the steering wheel.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked loudly.

Max turned to look at her with a particular look that evoked frustration. She found it hard to believe he could drive a car. He could barely ride a bike.

She could only watch, fascinated, as he shuffled with the gear. The car jerked forward. Over a few turns of gravel they reached their destination. Pop Pop stood at the driveway, and judging by the smile on his face, he was clearly impressed.

"Good job Max. I had my doubts to be honest."

Phoebe tuned out that conversation. She refused to acknowledge praise that was not directed her way. She unloaded her luggage and observed the surroundings and came to a morbid realization. This cabin house was isolated, and probably far away from any known landmarks.

She never thought of this. The last time they'd been here was when she was six.

"It hasn't changed a bit."

Max was not wrong. Brown on the outside and caramel brown on the inside with not a single glimpse of change to it. Her eyes darted around but her body followed behind her grandmother's back and up the stairs.

"This is your room."

Phoebe noted the amusement on their faces. The humor was lost on her. Max dropped his suitcase on the white carpet and inspected the room, his earlier enthusiasm vacant.

The room was simply terrible. The beds were perpendicular with a wedge of space between them that made room for the most unimpressive nightstand. A single closet. And a mirror just beside it. The window that loomed above the beds was a bit over the top.

Everything about the room defied privacy and personal space. The look on her face begged clarity.

"Go on. Unpack and come back downstairs when you're done."

Max did just that. Wasting little time to draw the shirt he'd been wearing over his head. She made a face. A little warning would have been nice.

"Where are you going?"

He gave her one of those looks again. A scathing glare was her response.

"Downstairs. Obviously."

"Are we not going to address a few things?"

"Nah. Complaining is your thing."

She didn't stop him when he walked out of the door. Phoebe poured out her cosmetics on the table and proceeded to arrange them. Her father had agreed wholeheartedly. Her mother had been hesitant to let them go. Nana convinced her. It did feel like they'd be going for more than three months.

Shaking her head, she conjured a fresh top from one of her bags and tried to look on the bright side. The special training. There also existed the small possibility of learning Pop Pop's signature move.

* * *

"So, Max, I've never heard of your alias."

"Its not Thunder Boy."

His grandfather laughed.

"Good riddance!"

Nana pushed a basket full of biscuits to the table. He took one. His mouth watered from the taste shortly after. Phoebe joined them at the table.

"Phoebe. Perhaps you could share something that Max here feels obligated to keep from us."

"He's deathly afraid of big needles."

"An irrational fear." Pop Pop observed. "What is his superhero name?"

"Nero or something."

"Its Noir." Max corrected.

"Don't care."

Pop Pop held back the urge to sigh. Max saw this and decided not to instigate fights in front of the old man.

"Kids. Try not to fight if you can help it. You're two of the most prominent heroes of your generation. This behavior is unbecoming of you."

"I'll try. Can't say the same about him."

"You're so much better, aren't you?"

"I'm not denying it."

"Now now children. Your Pop Pop asked politely."

Nana's face was full of wrinkles, wisdom and a demanding kindness that was unavoidable. Max offered a conciliatory smile.

"Your biscuits are awesome Nana."

"That's remarkably kind of you Max. I'll make these for you every morning to eat with your milk."

Phoebe decided to ruin the moment.

"He is short."

"And you're ugly."

"Max. That's not something nice to say to you sister. Apologize this instant."

His height was a sore topic. He wasn't short. His shoulders were slightly lower. Giving off the impression that he was indeed short. This avenue of ridicule was a sting in his confidence. No one understood. Ever.

Nana resigned and walked away. Pop Pop shifted to the front. Max could not gather the courage to look him in the eye.

"You will pick on each other. You might think you hate each other. But that's not the case and you know it. You oppose each other out of jealousy. It's a bit out there but it's the truth."

Max could feel the hard eyes on him.

"You want to be just as capable. You want to prove this. Earning trust is not a simple task. But you send the wrong message with such violent expressiveness."

The eyes were averted to Phoebe.

"The top is not a comforting solitude. Believe me. I know. You'll not be the best forever. Everyone improves. Whether you like it or not."

This was a silent authority. There was no hardness to the voice. No shift of blame.

"I assume you're tired from the ride. Go upstairs. Rest. And come back downstairs within an hour. You will not eat afterwards. Training on an empty stomach will be a test of endurance. I expect you to adapt and endure. You will hate me. You won't be the first. We will initiate a schedule to navigate your areas of difficulty. I'm not your father. I refuse to coddle you."

* * *

Phoebe's hard gaze was glued to the ceiling.

It wasn't much of a secret they didn't get along. Pop Pop used this as ground to get his intentions across. Her father was dim compared to his father apparently.

With a tinge of distaste, she noticed Max soundly asleep on his bed. Why did he have to come along? She didn't see the point. Her brother is a dimwit. Her advance experience far outstrips his infant records. She deserved this training. This sudden consideration of his feelings was a farce. Her parents were not subtle. Never had been.

A ticking erupted from her wristwatch. She was already on her feet. Max continued to snore, oblivious to prior commitments. Feelings festered within her. Pathetic.

Her grandfather waited outside, now dressed in a red striped shirt and weathered blue jeans. She didn't miss the disappointed glance he threw over her shoulder. She fought a smile.

"Show me offence."

Sergeant Thunder was a legend for countless generations, up to the conclusion of her father's reign. Therefore she did not hold back.

Her punches were hard. Her movements swift. He dodged just as swift, using his flight ability to carry his body away in the nick of time. She did not relent. Even as the sweat that ran down her forehead stung her eyes. She disregarded the holes in her attacks. He only needed to judge the efficacy of her assault anyway.

"You're far ahead than your father was at your age. This is good."

Phoebe decided not to react.

"I'll attack you now. Defend where you can."

The old man hit like a brick. He held back. It certainly didn't feel like it. Phoebe noted his feet that never touched the ground. He was accustomed to aerial combat. It must have stuck. She bit back a cry when he punched her shoulder. She fell to the ground, wincing and breathing hard.

"Thinking too much in the middle of a fight makes you idle. Do not make a habit out of it." Pop Pop helped her up. "You did well against a superior opponent. Tomorrow, I expect you to do better. Now go freshen up. Nana must almost be done preparing dinner."

Phoebe was ecstatic. The hole in her stomach had made her head swim but she couldn't be bothered. This was the training she'd been hoping for. Her father's outdated attempts failed into comparison to this.

She collided with Max on the stairs. He didn't look happy.

"You didn't wake me." he accused.

"I'm not your babysitter." she could have chosen a snarky reply but decided he wasn't worth the effort. "Go make yourself useful in the kitchen. Nana needs help."

The smile on her face never left as she washed herself that evening.

* * *

Max did not appreciate Phoebe's smug look. It made him want to hit something. He sighed and looked down at his food. The smell was intoxicating. He wasn't too thrilled with himself and his appetite suffered for it.

So much for a first impression.

"No need to look so down boy. There is tomorrow. You can show me what Nero is made of then."

"Its Noir." he corrected, with the sneaking suspicion that the man did it on purpose.

"My mistake."

Max ate half his meal. Helped with the dishes and briskly walked upstairs, eager to sleep away the embarrassment. Phoebe joined a few minutes later. He always slept on his back. It was not easy to ignore her routine.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"I'm not in the mood Phoebe." he turned and slept on his side, facing away from her.

The next morning he awoke early to a glass of milk with two large biscuits at the kitchen table. He ate hungrily and silently thanked his Nana. His grandfather waited outside. He ignored his twin entirely.

"Nice of you to join us...Nero."

The tips of his ears burned.

The geezer was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Its Noir…old man."

The relic smiled toothily, and made a gesture, having seen the agitated look on his face.

"Do something about it."

Max suddenly saw no harm in hitting old men.


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks had slipped by. Her improvements were tremendous. Pop Pop did not need to confirm it. She could feel it.

Max was still the annoying thorn in her side. She almost scowled as she held the towel to her body.

"I want to get dressed. Leave."

He tilted his head to the other side.

"Go ahead. I'm not looking."

"I want you out of the room."

"Tch, get over yourself. I wouldn't look even if I wanted to. You're probably repellant anyway."

He yelped – it was ladylike - when an invincible force yanked him from the bed and dumped him outside the door. She was not afraid of him. Her only mistake was forgetting to lock the door.

A grave mistake.

He actually had the decency to apologize.

It was half hearted.

Phoebe remembered it like yesterday.

Her cheeks had been strong with emotion. Embarrassing couldn't begin to describe it. Her hands had formed fists. Her nails had dug into her palms. She had swept the house for him. Her face had promised murder.

Nana informed her that he'd be out for a jog after his nap.

It was a wet morning. The prints of his shoes left easy trails in the pathways.

Not long until she heard him. He stopped at a tree with his hands on his knees. She snuck. The twig that snapped under her foot alarmed him. She cursed when he made a run for it.

He was fast. Her stamina was superior. Seconds later she tackled him into the dirt. Max was beneath her. His grip on her arms was surprisingly strong.

"Calm down!"

She was furious. She tried to free her arms and beat him within an inch of his life.

"Damn it Phoebe!"

She persisted. Even went as far as to bring her teeth into the fray.

"What's gotten into you?!"

There was a panic in his eyes. She could see it. When the energy left her. Max was smart and did not relent the grip on her arms. She glared dangerously. She was sitting somewhere between his stomach and thighs. In her anger she had not realized this.

There was a silence that crept in on around them. Phoebe's throat burned from all the running. Her mouth was dry. There was caution on his face. Her wrists started to burn under his herculean grip.

She wanted to kick him, punch him, and maybe bite him in that stupid, frustrating and..and…infuriating face.

"Calm down. I didn't mean to. I thought you locked the door. Honest."

The fury subsided. His words were genuine. She saw her reflection in his eyes. Her lips were an inch from the tip of his nose.

"Let go."

"On the promise that you won't kill me if I do?"

She nodded, cheeks heavy.

* * *

"Nero. It's you and me buddy."

Max did not waste time with feint tactics. He chose linear attacks. And bombarded the old man with kicks. The ferocity surprised everyone present. Including himself.

He wanted to end the fight. Pop Pop's face was filled with grim delight. Max spun and devoted a focus into his dominant left leg. It barreled into the old man with noteworthy force. Pop Pop shook his arms. Smiling despite obvious pain.

"You have more technique with your legs. I like this motivation. It seems with intent to harm, you improve in drastic amounts. Now. Defend."

Max grit his teeth at the irony when a kick to the face nearly connected.

He made a distance. It was stupid. The old man could fly. Max leapt a lot, alternating directions, pivoting around the fossil missile and a handful of other dirty tricks. The strength that slowly evaded him was his undoing. That and hunger. A sharp haymaker to the head forced him to the ground.

"I'm surprised. Your defense is impeccable. More so than your offence. I'm sensing my old age might grant me the wisdom to get your name right sooner than expected, Nero."

Max gathered himself and walked to rest and observe under the shade of a tree nearby.

"Phoebe. You're up."

Max absently touched his bruised cheek.

* * *

The absence of her computer was a looming detail. There was so much she wanted to research. Like the various fighting styles she could incorporate into her own.

She sat in the lounge. There was no television. Only portraits, countless books gathering dust in shelves and a homely fireplace that provided a warmth she could not find in her bed.

Her mind reached out to her family.

She longed to see them. Then she thought about requesting another few months to extend her training. And how rewarding it would be in the long run.

"Fancy a cup of tea?"

Phoebe expressed her gratitude with a nod.

"Your brother's proclivities. Where does he get the energy?"

"There's a gap between us and he intends to fill it." Phoebe shrugged. "I can't relate. I've never had to deal with being second best."

Nana was quiet.

The younger woman sipped on her tea and closed her eyes. Savoring the taste. Max was not in the house. He was not close to it either. He disappeared an hour before dinner. She did not bother to know why.

"Do you hate your brother?"

"I don't like him."

"Do you love him?"

Phoebe frowned.

"You reserve unkind feelings towards him because you feel threatened. It's a mechanism to deflect his growth. Am I wrong?"

"I've been doing this longer than his ambition to become a supervillain. I'm better. And don't intend to make him think otherwise."

"I won't say anything more on the matter." Nana stood up and promptly left for her room.

Phoebe had eyes that were not blind to Nana's favor of Max. The old woman had an affection for him that was not set aside for her. It was unfair. The tea in her hands ran cold as she confronted her disharmonious feelings.

* * *

"Max. You're up. I was just about to send your sister to come and get you."

"Glad you didn't."

"None of that. Now sit, sit, your breakfast is running cold."

Max washed his hands and sat next to the person least likely to annoy him. Nana smelled of roses and coconut oil. Her fading blonde locks were golden and vivid.

"Your hair looks nice Nana."

"Thank you Max. I'm glad someone cares to notice."

It was becoming obvious to anyone she liked compliments. To his satisfaction, Pop Pop looked mildly abashed. Serves him right.

"Why aren't we training today, old man?"

"I'm not as young as I used to be. These old bones need their rest." Pop Pop said, "that being said, it doesn't mean you get the day off."

"I guess I can do a couple of exercises." Max mused to himself.

"You seem taken enough to skip dinner for these exercises. I see the girth of your arms and the bulk of your torso. I hate to say this but its probably better to discontinue your workout for a while."

"Why?"

"You're getting along on your training. Training which requires you to be quick on your feet and fast with your hands. It eventually creates a coordination." Pop Pop said. "a workout routine is encouraged but you're so far ahead, you'd only be putting yourself at a disadvantage."

"How exactly?"

"You favor your legs greatly. You also neglect punching when you can afford it. Right there you contradict yourself."

"I'm losing you old man."

"You want to be stronger. What you don't realize is that you need to be faster."

"I can be stronger and faster at the same time."

"A misconception. There exists no such equation between the two."

"You fly. You have super-strength. Is that a misconception?"

"I fly faster than I hit harder." at his pointed look, Pop Pop added. "My powers are inherited. You have telekinesis. That is a strength as any."

"Its not the same."

"It isn't supposed to be because I'm making a point. The fact that you fail to grasp it makes me wonder if you're willfully obtuse."

Max ignored the obvious slight.

"Telekinesis becomes a thought when I fight. I only use it for a longer reach. You're strong. I'm not. I want to fix that. How is that bad?"

"You're already strong."

"You mean I'm getting there."

"At the cost of stupendous ability."

"What?"

Phoebe shook her head.

"He means to say its not a good idea to substitute speed for strength you already have…stupid."

Max glared at her as she stood up to help Nana clear the table. Pop Pop looked at him.

"I can only advise you this; work with what you have, exercise to exceed your limits. The rest will come and when it does; you adapt."

That day Max had a lot to think about. His workout was an output. It was in the crossfire of his improvement. He relied on his legs a lot. Workout would sacrifice his agility. Now he had to reevaluate. The old man knew his stuff apparently. He was starting to see why Sergeant Thunder was big of a deal even now.

There had not been much to do throughout the day. He took a couple of jogs around the house. A few walks as rest. When he came back, his grandparents met him at the driveway.

"We're going into town for a bit."

"Hiddenville is three hours away." Max said, as Pop Pop started the engine to the old jeep.

"Crest Valley is thirty minutes away if you take the opposite route."

"Never heard of it."

"You're sheltered. I don't blame you."

Max tried not to glare.

"Why don't you just fly over there?"

"Your grandma has a healthy fear of heights."

Nana winked at Max.

"A lie. In his old age, its too much of a distance as it is a risk. Your grandpa is just too proud to admit it."

Her husband grumbled. Max would have smirked.

"Can you take me with you?"

"And disrupt your quality time with Phoebe? Heavens no!"

"Forget I asked then."

The old man smiled. It was mischievous.

"I'll bring back sweets if you promise not to kill each other."

Nana chided her husband. Before they left, she said to bring gifts, and made the promise sound with a kiss to the cheek. Max was touched. He did not show it.

Minutes became eternal. It was night and no sign of his grandparents. He was worried. But not for them.

"You're making dinner."

He examined the ingredients. The focus on her face was sincere.

"You."

Her specialty was half cooked meals. Edible. Just not recommended.

"Go somewhere you can't bother me."

Max thought she was being petty.

"Do you want help?"

"Not yours."

"How long are you going to stay mad at me?"

Even if the image was burned into his mind. It didn't mean he thought back to it. Ok. Maybe he did. But not with intent to base opinion in any way.

Definitely not.

"I don't care. My reasons are mine."

"Forget I tried then."

He decided to have an uninterrupted look of the place. The portraits were so uninspired he believed Billy himself could replicate them.

He walked around the long couch to the table by the corner. There were pictures aligned at the window sill. Pop Pop and Nana. When they were younger. Max couldn't stop the wondrous smirk. Nana was stunning back in the day.

Max looked at a few more. Wondering why there was not a single sign of his father when he was a kid. He is the only child. Max easily discarded the thought as another picture caught his eye.

This one was old.

Pop Pop was not in it.

It was his father. Colonel Thunder. Out of uniform. With his pearly whites for the world to see. His burly arms around another man who did not seem to share the spirit.

That dour look. The gray hair. At the cusps of twenty years. Max recalled that legend. Colosso knew the gist of it.

Nathaniel Carter.

Former co-founder of the then Hero Association, now known as Hero League.

Huh. Small world.


End file.
